


A Tourist in The Waking World (Never Quite Awake)

by Captainwittyoneliner



Category: Captain America (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Feels, Darcy Feels, Drunken Confessions, F/M, Happy Ending, Haunting, Love Confessions, Protective Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captainwittyoneliner/pseuds/Captainwittyoneliner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s a ghost, you’ll never find him.<br/>Well, unless you’re Darcy Lewis. Then you don’t have to find him. He’ll find you.<br/>Or haunt you, as the case may be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Promises, Promises

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Mad Muse's Tea Party](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3772978) by [amusewithaview](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amusewithaview/pseuds/amusewithaview). 



> What am I doing. I already have, like, two other ongoing fics and here I am, killing myself with another.

1996

     Darcy sees him for the first time when she gets in trouble for stealing. Again.

     It was just _food_ , she was just _hungry_ but you have to pay to eat; you have to pay to live.

     Darcy doesn’t have money. She doesn’t have parents. Parents have money but Darcy has neither. She has _foster_ parents but that’s different because they get money for keeping Darcy; they’re not going to spend the money _on_ Darcy.

     He’s standing there, looking really angry about something—and from the way he keeps looking at Darcy’s current foster mom, it’s probably her—while Darcy gets chewed out by the latest in a long string of foster parents. She’s fat and lazy and makes Darcy and the other five kids she ‘takes care of’ stay in their single room unless they’re at school. She sometimes forgets to feed them like she imagines one would forget to feed a fish and doesn’t waste money to get them any clothes.

     In between yelling at Darcy, she’s apologizing to the store clerk, who looks at Darcy angrily and calls her an ‘urchin’ which Darcy thought people only said in books and stuff. He doesn’t notice her hungrily eyeing the chips she’d tried to take, her sallow cheeks, or the way her clothes hang off her much too small frame.

     When they get back to the foster parent’s house, the woman angrily calls the People who move Darcy from place to place and tells them that she’s not going to raise a thief. Darcy adds the woman’s name to her ‘list’ and goes to pack her few belongings. At least the People will get her something to eat.

     He’s there in the room when she walks in and he smiles kindly at her even though she knows he’s not supposed to be here. Darcy doesn’t call for help. The other kids are all asleep nearby anyway and they seem unharmed so she leaves it.

     “Who are you,” she whispers and he looks surprised, turning his head to look around the room and see if she’s talking to someone else.

     “Yeah, I’m talking to you.” She’s still whispering but now she has her hands on her hips and a challenging look on her face.

     “You can see me?” He asks, and yeah. She can see him. She can see his white tank-top smeared with oil, tucked into khakis that look almost as bad as her own pants. His shoes are worn and heavy-looking boots and he’s got worker’s gloves on his hands. His hair looks black in the dark room but Darcy thinks it’s probably brown and his eyes are almost a transparent gray. There’s a dip in his chin and his lips are almost as big as Darcy’s. One of her foster parents had said her lips were ‘plush’. Darcy tried to get kicked out of that house as soon as she could manage.

     “Yeah, idiot, of course I can see you. You’re not invisible, stupid,” she tells him with narrowed eyes. He chuckles and holds up his hands in a placating manner. Darcy hates it.

     “Actually, I kind of am?” He informs her, except he says it like a question so Darcy thinks he’s not _really_ sure he’s invisible.

     “No one else has been able to see me—so far,” he amends quickly.

     “But I can,” Darcy states and scrunches up her nose.

     “Apparently,” he sighs, “My name is Bucky, by the way.”

     “That’s a stupid name,” Darcy tells him because she’s only seven and she can get away with it. And because it _is_ a stupid name. He narrows his eyes.

     “It is not.”

     “It is too.”

     “Is not!”

     “Is too!” Darcy accidentally yells and the other kids start from their sleep. She and Bucky both clap a hand over their mouths while the others grumble and try to go back to bed. Once they’re asleep again Bucky looks at her with amusement.

     “Yeah? And what’s your name then?” He asks with a tilt of his chin.

     “It’s Darcy,” she crosses her arms, holding her head high, “Darcy Lewis.”

     He smirks and Darcy thinks that he might call _her_ name stupid as well, just because, but he doesn’t.

     “Well, Miss Lewis, it’s a pleasure to meet—“

     “LEWIS!” The foster mom shouts from the other room and Darcy jumps, running to pack the things she’d forgotten about when she was talking to Bucky. The other kids are awake as well, now but they obviously can’t see him.

     “YOU BETTER BE READY TO GO, YOU LITTLE SHIT, CUZ CHILD SERVICES IS COMIN’ TO GET YOUR ASS IN TWENTY MINUTES AND I AIN’T WANT YOU IN MY HOUSE ONE SECOND LONGER THAN YOU NEED TA BE!”

     Bucky looks really angry again but Darcy knows better than to talk to him with all of the other kids up because one time she was made fun of for talking to her imaginary friend. And she wasn’t even _real_.

     “Darcy, what’d you _do_ ,” Benny asks her from his place in the corner of the room. He always takes the corner in whatever house, he says. He’s rubbing sleep from his eyes and looks irritated at having been woken up.

     “I tried to steal a bag of chips.”

     Benny scoffs and Maria rolls her pretty doe eyes. She’s the oldest of them at twelve. She behaves the best as well, saying she didn’t want to get sent away because she might end up at some creepy old man’s house; even if she’s starving here.

     “So they saw you do it?” She asks Darcy, “That’s stupid, you’re not supposed to get caught.”

     “I know that!” Darcy says angrily stomping her foot. The foster mom yells for her from the other room again and they all gasp. Emmaline, who’s only four, whimpers by her place curled up with Maria. She’s the youngest and, because she doesn’t know how to steal yet, the other kids usually make sure she’s fed first when what’s-her-face does feed them.

     “I’m coming!” Darcy yells back, and Emmaline sniffles.

     “Are you going, D?” She asks, her eyes sad and shiny in the dark light. Darcy’s brow furrows and she looks away when she starts tearing up as well. She’d actually _liked_ these guys. Emmaline was her favorite because she had big, poufy black hair that Darcy liked to comb back into braids and pigtails.

     “I kinda hafta, Em,” Darcy replies quietly and even from across the room she can see Em’s lip start to quiver. Darcy watches as Maria pulls Emmaline closer and wraps her up in her arms, whispering quiet, kind things like she does for all of them when they’re hungry or in trouble or just out of a nightmare.

     When she turns to Bucky, he looks like he might cry as well and that’s when Darcy really starts to lose it because Bucky is an _adult_ and adults aren’t supposed to _cry._

     She’s crying and Emmaline’s crying and the others are crying as she pulls her trash-bag of clothes to the door. Benny looks like he’s trying not to cry because “he’s a man and men don’t cry like girls” so Darcy pinches him really hard on his arm and he starts bawling like a baby and angrily yelling at her. She doesn’t really care because she’s already crying so what more damage could he do.

     The foster lady pushes Darcy out the front door and puts her bag out next to her.

     “Now, you wait here,” she says sternly, “they’re gonna be here soon so don’t go runnin’ off.”

     With that, she retreats inside, slamming the door and locking the deadbolt loudly.

     Darcy sniffles as she tries to get her tears under control before the People come and she wonders, not for the first time, if her parents were actually alive and didn’t want her or if they were both dead. Neither option really sits well with her but she thinks for a split second that she would prefer it if they were dead. Then she takes it back because she feels really guilty for wishing someone was dead instead of alive.

     “Hey, kid,” Bucky says softly as he sits down next to her and Darcy startles before nodding at him. He tries to put his arm around her but it just goes right through her. Darcy figured it would but he looks so distraught about it that she leans into him as much as she can anyway.

     “So, what are you, anyway?” She asks after the silence goes on too long between them, “Are you a ghost?”

     Bucky lets out a strangled laugh and runs his other hand through his hair. “I don’t—I don’t know,” he admits with a sad smile, “Possibly, but if I am dead—if I’m a ghost—I don’t remember dying. I don’t—I don’t remember anything.”

     They’re both silent for a bit after that until Darcy speaks again.

     “You remember your name,” she reassures him and he chuckles. “Yeah, kid. I remember my name.”

     She stares at him for a moment before pulling her legs up to wrap her arms around her knees. She shivers against the chill in the autumn air and Bucky looks helpless again, like he wants to warm her up but he can’t.

     “If you’re not a ghost, maybe you’re a figment of my imagination,” she says suddenly and Bucky squawks indignantly.

     “I am _not_ a figment of some kid’s imagination, thank you very much,” he scoffs and she narrows her eyes at him.

     “Yeah? How would _you_ know? You don’t remember anything, remember?”

     “I’m just not, alright!”

     “Prove it!”

     “What? How?” and he runs his hand through his hair again. Darcy thinks for a moment before grinning.

     “Tell me something there’s no way I’d know,” she says, “that way I know you’re not something I made up. ‘Cause you’ll know stuff I don’t.”

     “Alright,” he decides and then thinks for a bit before his eyes widen and he smirks, “Benny has a crush on you.”

     “He does not.”

     “He does too.”

     “He does not and besides that doesn’t count.”

     “What? Why not?” He asks her, looking offended.

     “Because maybe I just _wanted_ Benny to like me so I projected that onto you so you would tell me what my brain wants to hear,” she tells him matter-of-factly and Bucky looks shocked but also amused.

     “Okay, slow down there, Sigmund Freud, you’re five.”

     “I’m seven. And who’s Sigmund Freud?” She wonders and Bucky crows in triumph.

     “Ha,” he says pointing at her, “there’s something I know that you don’t know! I’m not a figment of your imagination!”

     Darcy grudgingly concedes this point.

     “Yeah, okay, but who’s Sigmund Freud?” “He’s, uh, he’s a-a…um,” Bucky frowns and then looks defeated, pulling his own legs up and mirroring her position. “I don’t remember,” he mumbles and Darcy sighs.

     “That’s okay,” she says, not looking him in the eye, “It doesn’t really matter if you’re imaginary or not. I’m just glad you’re here.”

     Just then, a black car pulled up in front of the house and a couple people in suits with sympathetic looks stepped out of the car. The woman was the one to approach her but Darcy still shrunk back into Bucky. She didn’t want to go. She _didn’t_ because that meant _another_ house with _another_ stranger and _more_ kids she doesn’t know.

     But she _had_ to.

     Bucky, seeing her curl into herself and try to hold back tears again, starts petting her hair as best he can (so what if it was more like hovering his hand over her head).

     “Hey, I’ll go with you, okay? I won’t leave you alone, alright?” He tells her as the woman draws nearer, “You won’t be alone.”

     “Promise?” She whispers.

     “Promise,” he whispers back and Darcy stands and follows the lady back to the car. Bucky follows after.


	2. Interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like they're getting a little co-dependent here?  
> I don't know tell me what you think.  
> Bucky can't touch or be touched by anything living, but if he concentrates enough he can carry inanimate objects. He tried to get her flowers once, obv didn't work.  
> But he can bring her coffee. which is more important anyway.

2010

     He keeps his promise and sticks around Darcy from then on. Granted, it’s not all the time. Sometimes he fades away, eyes going blank and body shivering violently before he disappears but he always comes back. He never remembers what happens when he goes away and he’s not always the same when he comes back. Sometimes, instead of his slacks and greasy tank, he wears a blue flak jacket and a soldier’s uniform. Other times he comes back dressed in all-black leather, his left arm flickering in and out of existence. Those days he barely remembers his own name, let alone Darcy’s, but he sticks around her anyway; silently following her around her dorm room (blessedly a single) but not doing much else until he disappears again.

     Sometimes, he sticks around even when she doesn’t want him to.

     Correction: _Especially_ when she doesn’t want him to.

     Like _right fucking now_.

     “Jesus, is he serious?”

     Bucky sat on her right, invisible to everyone but her, dressed in his blue flak jacket. Darcy didn’t answer him, ignoring his words and directing her attention back to her date who was, admittedly, disgusting as he shoveled food into his mouth and tried to speak at the same time. She’d started zoning out after he’d begun talking about his latest research and the promotion he was expecting in the next few weeks.

     Christ, Darcy was going to _kill_ Crystal for setting her up with this dude. If she doesn’t first go to the psych ward for killing _Bucky_. Could she even kill Bucky if he was already dead?

     “So, anyway the tech company—“

     “He hasn’t even looked at your face all night—“

     “—was taking my research into consideration for—“

     “—Christ, did his mother not teach him manners, is he even tasting—“

     “—to go to the convention to present—“

     “—fucking swallow before speaking to her, you ass—“

     “—my work will be a gift to—“

     “—Holy shit! What a piece of crap I mean, really, Darcy, this guy? Because—“

     “SHUT UP!”

     The whole restaurant went silent, staring at Darcy who was standing now, having slammed her hands on the table and hoisted herself out of her chair. Bucky slunk down next to her, covering his face regardless of the fact that no one could see him. When he finally meets her eyes she glares at him accusingly. He blushes, ashamed.

     She storms out of the place, uncaring that she left her date behind, and resolutely ignores Bucky who catches up with her to no doubt apologize. Again.

     “Darcy,” he says, getting in front of her and walking backwards as she moves down the sidewalk, “Darcy, doll, I’m sorry. Baby-doll, please.”

     She continues to ignore him as she stomps towards the park in the twilight. Bucky keeps up with her, watching the people around her as they walk; assessing threats, as he once told her.

     “Doll, really I am,” He ducks his head and gives her a hang-dog look from under his lashes. She moves deeper into the deserted park and sits at one of the empty benches. Bucky follows suit and sits next to her.

     “I didn’t mean to ruin it, I just—he was an ass!” Bucky shrugs his shoulders, spreading his arms, palms up, “he didn’t even give you the courtesy to look at your face!”

     “I would have told him I wasn’t interested in a relationship, Bucky, like I always do. You didn’t need to come. Or make it so frustrating,” Darcy finally acknowledges him. Bucky leans back on the bench and groans.

     “I know you would have, that’s the problem!”

     Darcy leans her head back as well, catching his eye and raising her brow questioningly. Bucky squirms for a minute and then sighs.

     “I’m—I’m dead, Darcy. I’m dead.”

     Now it was Darcy’s turn to sigh. They’d had this conversation. They’d had it a hundred times in the last year and a half, probably.

     Somewhere along the line, for Darcy at least, Bucky had become more than just her companion and guardian. She’d fallen for him and had desperately tried to keep him from finding out as she went on date after date throughout her college years, hoping someone could stand up to the expectation that was James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes (yeah, she’d found out who it was that was haunting her. Quite the shock for both of them).

     However, Darcy soon found out that it wasn’t just her with an unrequited crush. One evening, after getting home from a failed date, Bucky had been irate and standoffish, barely speaking to her or looking at her. Having told another perfectly nice guy that she didn’t want a relationship with him, Darcy really wasn’t in the mood to deal with her best friend’s childish mood. She’d ignored him and tried to go to bed only to have him storm into her room and start interrogating her about ‘Adam’.

     “It was Aaron.”

     “I don’t care if it was ass-hat!”

     “Jesus Christ, Bucky, what the fuck is your _problem_?” She’d finally yelled, “I am trying to have a normal relationship with _somebody_ because the one person that I want to have a relationship with I can’t!”

     “Well, fuck that guy then! You don’t need him!”

     “Yes I do!”

     “No you don’t!”

     “Yes I do because IT’S YOU! I KEEP TRYING TO GO ON THESE DATES BUT ALL I CAN EVER THINK ABOUT. IS. YOU.”

     Realizing what she’d said Darcy had buried her face in her pillows, refusing to look at Bucky as he stood silently nearby. When she’d looked up again she’d expected him to be gone. She had not, however, expected the look of awe and _hope_ in his grey-blue eyes. Or the way he sat on the bed and reached for her like he needed to; like he _wanted_ her.

     She _had_ expected his hand to go through her when he reached to cradle her face.

     Bucky had let out a noise of frustration, angry and devastated that he couldn’t touch her—couldn’t _feel_ her when he so desperately wanted to and she so desperately needed it.

     “Fuck,” Bucky groaned dropping his hands to either side of her head and hanging his own low. Darcy stared at the top of his head for a moment before getting his attention.

     “Just lay down with me, Buck,” She’d told him, moving the covers and making room in her small bed. They laid facing each other, Bucky slightly overlapping her at her knees and hands. She couldn’t feel him and he couldn’t feel her but she liked the sight of their hands overlapping, sinking into each other. She hadn’t gone on anymore dates after that.

     And then her friends thought that was suspicious and started setting her up on blind dates.

     “I was going to tell you,” Bucky says, bringing her back to the park bench and out of her memories, “to move on. That’s what I was going to tell you but then I got there and…and I, um….” Mumble, mumble, mumble.

     “Huh?” Darcy scrunches her nose up, not having caught what he said.

     “I got…” more mumbling.

     “Bucky, I can’t hear you.”

     Mumble, mumble.

     “Bucky!”

     “I got jealous!”

     Darcy stares, shocked. Bucky’s not looking at her. He’s looking down at his hands and Darcy sees the left one flicker for a second before coming back.

     “Jealous…of that pig?” She asks, and now Bucky does look at her, searching her face.

     “Of anyone that can touch you, Darce.”

     And wasn’t that the gist of it.

     They could love each other all they wanted, as deep as the trenches of the ocean (or maybe not because there are some nasty-ass things down there but whatever. Metaphors) but they couldn’t touch. Bucky couldn’t touch anything living and nothing living could touch him.

     “Bucky, I don’t _want_ anyone to touch me,” Darcy tells him. The ‘ _Except you_ ’ goes unsaid because she knows that will only make him more frustrated and angrier at himself.

     “You should have someone,” he says quietly, not quite paying attention, “Someone who can take care of you like you deserve. I keep getting in the way.”

     Bucky’s looking down at his hands again, not focusing on Darcy. She furrows her brow in concern.

     “Bucky, I take care of myself. I always have. Besides,” she admits with a smile, “the only interesting thing that happens on those dates is your commentary. You’re definitely not in the way, dude.”

     This isn’t the first date that Bucky’s crashed and it will probably be far from the last. His inability to touch her has always been a topic of contention between the two of them, with Bucky always feeling like he isn’t enough and Darcy always reminding him that he is. She gets that it’s an insecurity for him; that sometimes he feels like she’ll stop caring about him since he can’t give her the human contact they crave.

     It’s these times that Darcy really wishes that he were alive, or that more people could see him and interact with him, at least. She’s the only human acknowledgment he’s got and she knows it’s not enough.

     He gives her so much and she can give him so little.

     Over the course of their kind-of-a-relationship, Bucky has proven himself a hopeless romantic. Putting on music and singing to her (badly), trying to teach her to dance (always funny since she’s got no partner), and even bringing her coffee from her single crappy coffee maker when she’s trying to work on school work (it takes a lot of energy for him so she’s always super delighted that he does it). He tells her the sappiest lines she’s ever heard and the stupidest jokes just to get her to laugh. And all she can do is make sure he knows she still cares.

      _Which_ , she thinks, _is a pretty shitty consolation prize for the guy that’s been with me since I was seven_.

     Bucky’s still staring at his hands and belatedly Darcy realizes he’s got that blank look in his eyes, his body shivering violently.

     “Bucky?” She asks, panicked, “Bucky!” She reaches towards him futilely but even if she could grab him it’s too late. He’s already faded away.

     

     When Bucky comes back a few days later, he’s Bucky #3. All black and silent, moving around her room like a shadow. His arm is flickering more than usual and he doesn’t remember who he is, even a little bit. She tries to speak to him but he becomes erratic, yelling in Russian and holing up in the far corner; as far away as he can get from her without actually leaving. She doesn’t try to speak to him again.

     He follows her to her classes and back to her dorm and to her classes and to her dorm and to the store and then back to her dorm, silently scanning the people around them. There are no romantic gestures, no music, no coffee, and no sweet smiles.

     When he’s like this she tries to make sure he’s as comfortable as possible. She’s learned that he panics when she leaves his sight, so she makes sure to stay with him most, if not all, of the time. He sits leaning against the bed when she sleeps, like some overgrown guard-dog, and she keeps her hand close to his head because it seems to relax him to have her close by at these times.

     A few days after he appears, he fades again. Darcy thinks he’ll come back as Bucky #1 or Bucky #2 like he usually does after these episodes, but when he returns the next week he’s still silent and dark and scared. He’s never actually stayed this way for so long. He doesn’t change back again no matter how many times he fades and comes back. He never remembers her name or even having been there before so each time is back to square one; making him comfortable and not taxing him with words. He still doesn’t leave her.

     Even if he doesn’t remember it, he keeps his promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Head-canon that Bucky is a ridiculous romantic and loves people. Like sure he was a playboy but unlike Stark he genuinely cared about all the girls he dated even if he didn't love them. He probably remained friends with all the kind ones, too. He's probably a hardcore extrovert so this isolation is hard on him.  
> Also, Bucky isn't normally a jealous guy but he can't even touch her so I imagine that's a pretty big confidence wrecker.


	3. An Internship Gone South

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get it? Cuz everything goes to shit. And they're in the south? No? ...okay.  
> I had to re-watch Thor (2011) for this.  
> Bucky hasn't disappeared since mid 2010, during this chapter.

2011

     Bucky likes Jane almost immediately after they meet her that first day at the airport. Or she _thinks_ he likes Jane. He’s still The Shadow Bucky, as she’s dubbed him, so he doesn’t talk unless he has to.

     But he likes Jane.

     Darcy is glad because Darcy _also_ likes Jane and the last time Shadow Bucky had disliked someone she hung out with, that person ended up getting a glass vase dropped on their head.

     Bucky still sticks around Darcy all day but sometimes, late at night, she’ll find him watching over Jane as she works, muttering to herself and scribbling on a piece of scrap paper. It makes her smile and she wishes, not for the first time, that Jane could see Bucky.

      _Though she’d probably freak out about it,_ Darcy thinks, _not everyone is used to the ghosts of WWII veterans keeping them company._

     Bucky’s a little more wary of Erik Selvig when he shows up. He doesn’t watch over him like he does with Jane and Darcy but he doesn’t drop glasses on him so she counts it as a win.

     And then shit goes down.

     Bucky tags along because of _course_ he does.

     When Darcy gets out of the car to follow Jane—after they’ve hit Big, Blonde, and Beautiful—Bucky jumps in front of her, barring her way as much as an ephemeral entity can. She steps around him (going through him would be rude) and he gets in front of her again, looking very disapproving.

     “Alright,” she whispers as Jane shouts for her to get the first-aid kit, “don’t go near the homeless guy, gotcha.”

     Then BB&B wakes up, yelling about a hammer and bifrosts and Bucky gets even _more_ jumpy than usual so Darcy tasers the dude.

     “What? He was freaking me—,” _Bucky_ , “—out!”

     Bucky nods emphatically beside her.

     Not that anyone else can see it.

     

     Thor can see Bucky.

     He doesn’t _say_ it, not out loud, but he glances in Bucky’s direction too often for it to be coincidence.

     When Thor breaks the coffee cup and Bucky jumps up from his place beside Darcy, Thor’s gaze darts to _him_ before returning to Jane.

     Bucky knows it, he doesn’t say it either because he rarely talks, but he knows. He glares at Thor whenever he gets too close to her. He doesn’t like the dude and he doesn’t trust him. That’s fine because Darcy doesn’t really like him all that much either, not at first (he may be hot but he’s too arrogant; reminds her of a high school dude-bro).

     She doesn’t confront Thor about it and he doesn’t bring it up. Whether because he doesn’t care or because he thinks no one else sees Bucky, she doesn’t know.

 

     Bucky is _even less fond_ of Jack-booted thugs than the rest of them.

     He’s absolutely brimming with anger as they move around the car dealership, taking electronics and files. When an agent grabs Jane’s notebook right out of her hand he snarls and Darcy’s too busy trying to restrain Jane to stop Bucky. More than a few of the assholes get a paperweight or a pencil or something else dropped or thrown at them while no one’s looking. A man called Agent Sitwell is an especially favorite target of Bucky’s. Coulson is looking at Darcy suspiciously. She just shrugs and Bucky snarls more.

     When Jane disappears to do exactly what Darcy knew she was going to do, Bucky goes with her. Instead of angry, Darcy only feels relieved. Bucky may not be able to do anything to protect her, but she’s still grateful he’s got her back anyway.

     They both come back looking like kicked puppies and Jane argues that they can’t just leave Thor and Bucky is _agreeing_.

     So, Darcy makes Thor a fake ID and forges some papers that she’s praying will stand up under SHIELD scrutiny. He gets out so she figures it did okay. Bucky actually looks proud at her mediocre skill.

     Things go back to normal after that. Well, as normal as life can be when a cut hobo and the ghost of Bucky Barnes are hanging around.

     And then four weirdos in armor show up at the door.

     Thor introduces them as his friends: the lady Sif, Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun. Darcy realizes quickly that they can also see Bucky.

     “And the other young warrior?” Volstagg asks after Thor has introduced Darcy, Jane, and Erik.

     “Ah, yes, well,” he looks at Bucky and back at Volstagg. Quieter he says, “I don’t know.”

     “Warrior? What warrior? What’s he talking about?” Jane asks looking between the two men.

     “Why, him of course,” Fandral nods at Bucky and he moves closer to Darcy.

     “What Darcy?”

     “No Bucky.”

     They all look at her, some like she’s crazy and the crazies like she’s more interesting than they first thought.

     “At least, that’s his name,” she says, looking at Thor and he nods.

     “Then you have sight as well, Lady Darcy.” He didn’t really say it like a question but Darcy answers anyway.

     “I guess? I just—he’s been around since I was little,” she looks at Bucky and Bucky just stares back.

     “A guardian, then.”

     “Sure.”

     “What the hell are you guys talking about?” Jane says, exasperated.

     “You’re being guided by the spirit of a warrior,” Sif explains and Jane grumbles.

     “What does that even _mean?_ ”

     “We’re being haunted by the ghost of Bucky Barnes,” Darcy tells her seriously, looking Jane dead in the eye. Jane laughs but stops when Darcy doesn’t change her expression. Bucky, too, is staring at Jane, even if she can’t see it. Jane stares at Darcy, then at Thor who nods.

     “Seriously?”

     “Seriously.”

     “No way.”

     “Way.”

     “Prove it.” Jane narrows her eyes. Darcy turns to Bucky and smiles sweetly.

     “Hey, Bucky, could you do me a favor?”

     He nods.

     “Could you pick that up for me?” She asks, pointing at an empty water bottle on the table.

     He does.

     “OH MY GOD!” Jane yells and Bucky drops the bottle, startled.

     “I told you. And don’t yell you’re gonna scare him. Also, the majority of the people in this room right now can see him and you needed proof? Little hypocritical of you, Jane, don’t you think?”

     Jane’s mouth works soundlessly for a couple seconds before she lets out a strangled noise.

     “How long has he been here?!”

     “Since I showed up. He follows me, Jane.”

     Jane doesn’t have time to answer that (like she had an answer for it, anyway) because suddenly everyone’s attention is caught by the weird cloud formation forming just outside of town. A loud boom reverberates through the town when something they can’t see touches down and Bucky once again moves in front of Darcy.

     “Were you expecting anyone else?” Darcy asks nervously.

 

     Darcy is terrified of what’s happening. Some big, metal robot called the Destroyer is spewing fire from its fucking _face_ but Darcy’s running around evacuating people. Bucky keeps yelling at her to “GET DOWN” or “STOP” or “GET TO SAFETY” and she mostly listens. He puts himself between her and shattering glass a few times, concentrating enough to have the pieces bounce harmlessly off his back instead of embed in her body.

     She saves a dog. She names it Baker.

     Bucky looks at her in shocked disbelief.

     “What? It’s a good name!” She yells as they’re running back to the dealership.

     He face-palms.

     Thor dies.

     And then Thor lives?

     “Man, this is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me,” she says sincerely when Thor comes waltzing back up from having destroyed the Destroyer.

     She’s got tear tracks streaking the dirt on her face and there’s glass in her hair but she has no major injuries and she’s smiling, relieved. Bucky looks her over with concern anyway, despite her reassurances.

     “You’re too brave for your own good, kukla.” He tells her later, quietly searching her face. They’re sitting out by the bifrost sight, hours after Thor has left. Jane refuses to leave and Darcy refuses to leave Jane.

     She smiles at him, big and bright and genuine. This is the most he’s talked in ages of course she’s ecstatic. He opens up and talks to Darcy a lot more now, even in front of Jane. He still doesn’t talk a whole hell of a lot but there’s a decided increase in chattiness. The fact that Jane won’t look at her like she’s crazy for talking to empty space also helps.

     Plus, it’s fun to watch Jane jump when Bucky hands her certain pieces for fixing her machines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Kukla" (кукла) means 'doll' in Russian. If it doesn't then Google translate is a fucking liar.


	4. Kept in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Darcy friendship! chapter.

2012

     Tromsø is a beautiful city. Absolutely gorgeous, really. Or at least, Darcy assumes it’s beautiful. The pictures all look fucking stunning online—but Darcy wouldn’t personally know because she’s _stuck in a goddamn laboratory_.

      _Stupid jack-booted thugs_ , she thinks, once again offering the camera to Bucky.

     “Please take a picture of the strait for me.”

     Bucky shakes his head. She waves the camera.

     “Please.”

     “No.”

     “Just one photo,” Darcy pouts.

     “No.”

     “Puh-leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease,” Darcy throws on her best ‘baby-doll’ look and bats her eyelashes at him. He crosses his arms and seems to reconsider. He opens his mouth.

     “No.”

     Darcy lets out a loud groan and lays down on the linoleum floor of the lab, continuing to groan as she rolls around. Bucky just shakes his head and makes a point of stepping over her (even though he could have just stepped through her) before making his way to Jane’s side where her face is practically attached to a monitor.

     Forget the fact that it would have looked weird if anyone saw a camera seemingly floating through the halls of the facility by itself, Darcy was going _crazy_ with no window or communication to the outside world. Jane seemed to be in her element (but when _wasn’t_ she?) and Bucky…

     Darcy sobers up as she thinks about Bucky’s behavior. It’s not that it was anything _new,_ per say, and it’s not that he’s gone silent on her again (except around the spy kids) but…

     Over the course of their time in New Mexico, researching the Bifrost, Bucky had become almost relaxed. Talking more, leaving their general vicinity, and even going into town on his own. He allowed Darcy to work as a translator between himself and Jane if he wished to speak with her. He’d showed Darcy more of himself and she even got him to laugh once (kind of). He let his guard down.

     Now, though. Now he didn’t leave Darcy and Jane alone. Especially not with the SHIELD agents. He was anxious. Darcy could tell, even when he hid it from her. He split himself between Darcy and Jane in equal measure and tried to keep Darcy from interacting with any jack-booted thugs for longer than absolutely necessary. Darcy made a point of sticking around Jane for as long as possible during the day to make it easier on him.

     It’s not like it was a hardship. For her part, Darcy was becoming increasingly worried about Jane the longer Thor stayed away. With Erik going over to the so called ‘Dark Side’, it was left to Darcy and Bucky to protect the woman.

     Also, she didn’t trust SHIELD as far as she could throw the collective, not-so-secret government organization. And not just because she still hasn’t gotten her iPod back.

     Darcy continues to lay on the floor and sigh morosely, ignoring the unimpressed look that Bucky was sending her from his spot against Jane’s desk. She sighs again and rolls over until she bumps against Jane’s chair. Bucky smiles faintly at her antics.

     “Darcy, get off the floor,” Jane says distractedly, “god only knows when they were last washed.”

     “Give me some soap and I’ll get started.”

     Jane actually looks up from her work to give Darcy an incredulous look.

     “Did you just offer to do chores?”

     “Well, there’s nothing _else_ to do around here,” Darcy complains, throwing her hands straight up in the air. Bucky almost snorts.

     “Why don’t you go into town?”

     “Because _you_ won’t go into town.”

     “Darcy, I’m working,” Jane sighs tiredly. They’d had this conversation twice already.

     “I know, Jane. You are working. You have been doing _nothing but_ working. You know, most people drown their sorrows with alcohol, not astrophysics.”

     “If we go out,” Jane starts, sounding like she was talking about marching to their death instead of heading to a nearby bar, “will you stop bothering me?”

     Darcy thinks about it.

     “For the next couple days at least, Brain-y Janey,” she assures the doctor. Jane just looks at her.

     “Shouldn’t you be back at Culver?” She asks like she wasn’t the one that dragged Darcy out here in the first place.

     “Already graduated,” Darcy replies, “I sent in the credit form and they sent me my diploma.”

     “But you didn’t go to graduation,” Jane says, saving her work and shutting the computer down. Darcy gets up off the floor and Bucky stands up from where he was leaning against the desk.

     “Nope.”

     “Why not?”

     “Because there would have been no one to come see it.”

     Jane pauses where she’s shoving a few folders into her canvas tote and turns around to face Darcy, her brow furrowed in concern. Bucky’s also looking troubled and Darcy suddenly remembers that he _doesn’t_ remember that she’s an orphan.

     “Your parents…”

     “Don’t have any,” Darcy tells the woman. There’s no sadness in her voice. Just statement of fact. It didn’t seem so bad not having a living family when she had Bucky around. She figured it was more than most kids in her situation got.

     Jane stares at Darcy for a second before standing up straight and putting a determined look on her face.

     “I would have gone to your graduation.”

     Darcy jerks in surprise, eyes widening as she registers Jane’s statement.

     “What—you would—really?”

     “Yes, of course,” Jane frowns like this was a given. Darcy bites her lip and furrows her own brow.

     “Jane, you’re not obliged to come to my graduation because I was your intern.”

     Jane looks shocked for a second and then annoyed.

     “Of course I’m not _obliged_ to do so, Darcy,” Jane tells her angrily, crossing her arms, “I would have gone because I _wanted_ to. Because that’s a huge achievement and I would have been proud to see you walk across the stage and take your diploma. I would have gone because you earned it and because I care about you.”

     Darcy looks at Jane’s face. The line between her brows and the earnestness in her eyes and feels her throat close up a bit.

     “Oh,” she manages.

     “’Oh’?” Jane says confused.

     “Yeah,” Darcy says, looks down at her feet, “I just…”

     “What, do you _not_ care?” Jane asks, seeming to deflate a little. Darcy hurries to reassure her.

     “No! I mean—yes, of course, I care about you,” Darcy looks at Jane, searching her face and willing her friend to understand, “I just—I didn’t—didn’t think…”

     “…You didn’t think that _I_ cared,” Jane says, dawning realization crossing her face before sympathy, “Oh, honey, how could I not?”

     Jane wraps her thin—but surprisingly strong—arms around Darcy in a warm hug, squeezing her tight.

     “I care, Darcy. I care about you.”

     Darcy sniffles and returns the hug. She buries her face in the shorter woman’s neck and squeezes back. It’s been _so long_ since she’s had physical human contact and she soaks it up, getting herself and her tears under control before she lets Jane go and steps back.

     Then she catches the look of desperate longing on Bucky’s face and it’s so heartbreaking that Darcy nearly starts crying again. She looks away and wipes her eyes, still sad but angry now, too, that Bucky can’t feel this comfort from either of them. That he can’t give it or receive it.

     “You alright?” Jane asks her, and Darcy looks back to see Jane looking her over with concern and Bucky looking away. Darcy gives her a watery smile.

     “Yeah, I—yeah, I’m alright,” Darcy says.

     The three of them make their way out of the laboratory and into town. It’s dark outside but that’s understandable since they’re practically in the Arctic Circle. Bucky tells her they’re being followed by the SHIELD agents and Darcy just nods, waving it off. They come across a little sports bar and head in straight for the bar. It’s surprisingly quiet inside for the number of patrons but Darcy shrugs it off and tries to get the bartender’s attention.

     “Two whiskeys, straight, please,” she orders but the man’s not paying attention. Irritated, she tries again.

     “Excuse me, sir—,”

     “Darcy,” Jane whispers, brokenly and Darcy turns to her in alarm. Like all the other patrons, she and Bucky are watching the single TV in the establishment, turned to a live breaking news story.

     “Oh, shit,” Darcy whispers.

     The bar on the bottom of the report reads ‘ALIENS IN NEW YORK, MYSTERIOUS HEROES ON THE SCENE’.

     On the screen, Thor and a man in a Captain America suite fight side by side.


	5. Surprises Come in Two's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dusts cobwebs off of this fic* haha whoops...
> 
> So Pythia (Pythiaspeaks on tumblr) is a god send who beta read this chapter so I could post it. All my love and thanks to them!!!!
> 
> It's still 2012 in this chapter so it immediately follows the last chapter...

Still 2012

     “Borgen Lumber Liquidators, how can I help you,” an enthusiastic, peppy voice asks from the other end of the line. It makes Darcy furious. Well, more furious than she already is.

     “Yeah, no, fuck you? I know this is the number for SHIELD. I need to speak to Agent iPod thief.”

     Darcy waits out the woman’s stunned silence impatiently, tapping her foot on the cobblestones of the alley the three of them ran off to (Bucky is, unsurprisingly, good at ditching a tail). Jane’s leaning against the side of the building looking dead ahead, expressionless, and Bucky keeps watch at the mouth of the alley.

     His entire body is riddled with tension and Darcy would be lying if she said the face he had made when he got a glimpse of whoever it was impersonating Captain America didn’t scare her.

     He was _pissed._

     Which is both better and worse than Jane, who has pretty much gone catatonic with the betrayal. God only knows how long Thor’s been back without telling them.

     “I’m…sorry but who are you,” the woman’s voice on the other end changes from peppy to stern, a threat clear in her tone.

     “Bitch, I’m Darcy Lewis! Now put Coulson on the phone or so help me—,”

     “I can’t do that.”

     “Excuse you?!”

     Her exclamation draws Bucky’s attention from the mouth of the alley but Jane stays worryingly uninterested. He makes a motion for her to keep it down before going back to keeping watch.

     “What do you mean you can’t do that,” Darcy demands, “just patch me through, tell him it’s urgent!”

     “Miss Lewis, when I said ‘I can’t’ I meant that literally. Agent Coulson is dead.”

     Darcy is shocked into silence, mouth gaping open and phone hanging limp in her hand. On the other end of the line she can hear the woman calling her name. All Darcy can think about is that there was no one left at SHIELD that they could trust. Coulson was their liaison, their informer, and (hesitantly) their friend. They’d trusted him to be honest with them if not always truthful. If he’s dead then…

     “Please tell the director that Dr. Foster politely resigns—effective immediately,” Darcy says, hanging up the phone before the Agent on the other end can protest. She grabs Jane’s arm and pulls the woman along with her with no complaints. At the mouth of the alley she turns to Bucky.

     “Can you get us to a safe hotel without being noticed by anyone from SHIELD?” She asks him. He snaps to attention and nods determinedly. She gives him grateful smile and follows him onto the street.

     With one hand she continues to drag Jane along behind her and with the other she dials another number on her phone. She hopes she’s gotten it right as she listens to it ring.

     “Hello, this is Stark Industries’ New York office. I’m Miss Potts’ assistant. She’s not available at the moment but can I take a message and let her get back to you?” a harried voice answers and Darcy sighs in relief.

     “Yeah, tell Miss Potts that Dr. Foster has a proposition for her,” Darcy replies.

 

     The hotel they end up at is a small, family run joint off the beaten path. It’s quaint and cute and best of all, no one really knows that it’s there. Which…probably not good for business.

     But fuck if it wasn’t perfect for their situation.

     Jane’s sleeping on one of the double beds while she and Bucky sit next to each other on the other one, talking quietly while waiting for Pepper Potts (internal screeching) to call her back.

     “How much do you remember?” Darcy whispers quietly, sitting as close as she can to him without overlapping.

     “Nothing,” he says, frustration clear in his voice, “I don’t remember anything.”

     He’s bent over, elbows resting on his knees and head in his hands, muffling his reply just a bit.

     “I don’t—I-I don’t but all I could think when I saw that damn newscast was ‘what the fuck is that punk doing?’ I don’t know who that punk even is!” He gestures wildly. Darcy stays silent.

    “Who was he?” Bucky whispers brokenly, “Who am I?”

     Darcy’s heart breaks for him. She wants to tell him who he was but it wouldn’t answer his question of who he is. She wants to tell him that she loves him, remind him that he’s human and he’s here; but you can’t tell someone they love you when they don’t remember that love. It would be cruel. He’s different than how he was before he became a shadow, but she could appreciate and acknowledge those differences and they don’t affect how much she loves him. She _loves_ him. She loves this Bucky the same as she loved him before.

     But he doesn’t remember falling in love with her.

     And she can’t remind him without tainting it.

     And she’s _terrified_ he doesn’t love her back anymore.

     “You’re my friend,” she starts anyway, holding back tears. She’s so angry. At Thor, at SHIELD, at the world; angry for Bucky and his pain and angry for Jane and hers, “my family. When I need you, you’re there and you have never let me down. You’re strong and kind and I’m proud to know you even if no one else can. I am so sorry that you hurt, Bucky.”

     She falls silent and they stare at each other for a long moment. His expression is unreadable. She waits for him to say something but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches for her, left hand coming up to her face. She stays still and waits for it to pass through her.

     The feel of cold metal touches her cheek.

     “Holy shit!” Darcy jumps back, startling Bucky. She panics and rushes to reassure him.

     “No, no, no! Wait! Do that again,” she says, reaching for his left hand. He moves back faster than she can get to him and suddenly she’s alone on the bed with him standing by the window.

     “No, tell me what’s going on,” he demands, cradling his left hand like he’s scared it’s going to hurt someone. Darcy opens her mouth but closes it when she sees his left hand. _Clearly._

     It’s bright silver, interlocking plates making up its entire form.

     Every other time she’s ever seen his left arm it’s been fuzzy, vague like a memory her brain can’t really remember properly. Now it’s completely visible; in focus and sharp.

     And she could _feel_ it. She _swears_ she could feel it when he touched her (the first time he’s tried in years).

     “It’s alright, it’s alright,” she reassures him, still a little shocked, “It’s nothing bad. It was just…surprising.”

     He looks at her, eyes narrowed.

     “What’s surprising…?”

     Darcy hesitates before answering.

     “I could feel you,” she whispers. Bucky tilts his head in confusion, arms coming down to his sides in a deceptively relaxed stance.

     “Oh,” he says.

     “Yeah, I didn’t know you could touch—wait. Did…did you know…? That you could touch me?” Darcy asks hesitantly. If he knew—if he knew this whole time and was _capable_ —

      _He doesn’t want to touch me_ , she thinks. She pulls her legs up to her chest on the bed, unconsciously hunching into herself and becoming small.

     His fists clench and unclench once.

     “I won’t do it again,” Bucky whispers, “I swear I won’t. I-I—don’t—I’m sorry—,”

     Darcy, confused by his words, looks up at him with a furrowed brow.

     “You think _I_ didn’t want you to touch me?”

     His mouth snaps shut. A minute passes in silence before he makes the barest hint of a nod. Darcy relaxes, smiling at him bright and reassuring.

     “Dude, I thought _you_ didn’t want to touch me,” her relieved, warm smile stays on her face, joined by a blush at her next words.

     “Trust me,” she murmurs, “if you want to touch me, I want you to touch me.”

     This time Bucky blushes.

     But he also moves back to the bed. He lifts his left arm slowly and Darcy has to use every ounce of self-control she has to allow him to go at his own pace instead of just grabbing him. She’s practically holding her breath by the time he gets about an inch away and then—

     Her phone rings loudly on the bedside table and the two of them jump a foot apart. Jane startles awake on the bed across from them, looking around dazedly. Everything about her screams exhaustion but Darcy doesn’t think it’s the kind you can solve with a good night’s sleep.

     Darcy sighs, sending an apologetic look towards Bucky before answering the phone.

     “Hello?”

     “Miss Lewis? Assistant to Dr. Foster?” a cultured voice asks from the other end of the line.

     “This is she.”

     “Good! This is Pepper Potts. I hear you have a proposition for me.”

     Darcy almost drops the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He can touch her with his left hand because it's not alive!!! HAHA IM SO CLeVER IMI SO FUCNKING CLEVER *sobS*


	6. Relationship Status

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I 100% have no idea what I'm talking about when it comes to computers. Thank you's to Pythia for beta reading this chapter!!! What an absolutely divine creature of heaven.  
> This chapter takes place right after Thor: The Dark World and during the overlapping AoS episode. No spoilers for either, though. (mostly)

2013

     The situation is incredibly awkward, to say the least.

     “How many dead people am I going to be seeing?” Darcy asks incredulously.

     “Unless I’ve started seeing dead people, too, he looks very. Much. Alive.” Jane answers through gritted teeth. She storms up to the previously-believed-to-be-dead agent with a furious look on her face.

     “Dr. Foster,” Coulson says, “I can explain every—,”

     Jane doesn’t let him finish. The resounding echo of one of Jane’s patented You Fucking Asshole slaps™ makes Darcy wince in sympathy. Every other agent on clean-up duty stops and gapes at Jane in disbelief.

     “She’s been dishing out a lot of those lately, huh?” Darcy mentions to Bucky. He grunts, crossing his arms and walking away to stand by Thor. Thor who still looks like a kicked puppy because, despite being reunited with her intergalactic love, Jane isn’t just going to willy-nilly forgive him for two years of absence without major groveling.

     She makes a pouty face at Bucky but he ignores her and she sighs. She really shouldn’t have kissed The Intern.

     After taking a deal with Stark Industries to have Jane’s research funded in London, they’d packed up and left Tromsø as soon as humanly possible (well, as fast as Darcy could manage on her own because a.) Ghost Bucky, and b.) Catatonic Jane). Darcy had taken on the responsibility of watching over Jane and making sure she didn’t overwork herself as well as visiting Eric in the asylum.

     Bucky, more comfortable knowing Darcy wasn’t disgusted by or afraid of him touching her, took to touching her as much as he could when no one was around and she could reciprocate.

     They found out quickly that he could only touch her with his left hand. He held her hand a lot, played with her hair when she was working, touched her cheek at random times, and sometimes put his arm around her shoulder. Every time he went to touch her he asked her if it was alright, gave her the option of not being touched, or offered his hand palm up in silent question. Not once did she turn him down, ecstatic that she could finally feel the man she loves.

     Despite the _ludicrous_ amount of physical contact (or not, considering how touch starved he is) nothing went past platonic. Every touch was chaste; each contact could be considered friendly.

     The thing was, though, they _never_ talked about it. Not extensively. She just assumed they were still just friends—that he was just happy to have someone he could make physical contact with at all.

     So, during the invasion, high on adrenaline and relief at being saved (usually _Bucky’s_ doing), she’d projected her feelings for Bucky onto The Intern and laid one on him.

     She never wants to see that look of hurt on Bucky’s face again.

     Now, he’s completely ignoring her. He won’t touch her, he barely acknowledges her, and it’s kind of driving her insane even though it’s only been twelve hours.

     So, Bucky’s mad at her, Jane’s mad at Thor, everyone is mad at Coulson, and The Intern seems to be madly in love with her…

     Oh, but hey. They saved the world again.

     A++ all around.

     Darcy looks at Bucky one more time, sighing when she sees that he’s conversing with Thor and purposely standing with his back to her. She shakes her head and moves towards Jane and Coulson to see if she can keep Jane from literally strangling the poor man.

     At the moment, Jane has her hands balled in the lapels of his suit, shaking him back and forth and demanding to know where he’s been, what he’s been doing, why didn’t you call, son I’m very disappointed in you—

     “Jane? Ja—Jane!” Darcy shouts, pushing her arm between the tiny astrophysicist and the, honestly, dizzy-looking Agent. She nods at him in sympathy, “She’s stronger that she looks, huh?”

     “Yes, quite,” Coulson answers reservedly. No doubt he thinks he’s about to get the same treatment from Darcy. However, Darcy’s never been one to strong-arm her way into peoples’ business when they don’t want it—especially not when it involves something as shady as SHIELD—so she leaves it.

     “We missed you, you know,” she says instead.

     Coulson looks taken aback for a moment, obviously surprised that the two had actually developed a connection with him that would constitute them _missing_ his dumb face when he’s gone. Then, he smiles at her, his I-really-want-to-hug-you-but-I-can’t-because-I’m-on-duty smile.

     She hugs him anyway.

     “Wow, AC, you really do have friends,” Darcy hears someone say behind her.

     “Skye,” Coulson sighs as Darcy steps back and turns towards the voice.

     The young woman looks to be about her own age, long brown hair and brown eyes with her hands on her hips and a cocky smirk on her face. There’s a kindness and a mischief in her eyes that Darcy really likes the look of. She smiles at the girl.

     “Yo, what’s up? I’m Darcy,” she extends her hand. The girl takes it, giving it a brisk shake before going to stand by Coulson.

     “I’m Skye. I’m a SHIELD agent,” she answers proudly.

     “Almost,” says Coulson. Skye rolls her eyes.

     Darcy grins.

     “So, Coulson, when do I get my iPod back?”

 

     Clean-up takes the rest of the day (not that Darcy helped at all. She, Jane, Thor, and Bucky stayed the fuck out of that mess) which gave Thor and Jane time to get…reacquainted, so to speak. Bucky still isn’t talking to Darcy but he _is_ still following her around so she figures their relationship isn’t completely fucked.

     She and Skye get along famously, much to Agent Coulson’s growing horror, and Darcy sees the opportunity to improve her mad hacking skill set (mediocre) through Skye’s teaching (professional grade hacker). So, for most of the day, she and Skye (and Bucky) are holed up in a nearby library while Skye gives Darcy lessons in hacking into top-secret alphabet soup agencies around the world.

     At one point, while Darcy’s trying to figure out how to decrypt CIA top-secret spec-ops reports without triggering any fire-walls, Skye turns to her and—

     “So what’s up with tall, hunky, and broody following you around?”

     Darcy presses the wrong key in her shock and three alerts pop up.

     “Shit.”

     Skye takes the computer from her and uses her mad skills to make it seem like a false alarm while Darcy looks for Bucky. He’d wandered off somewhere around hour two, since they weren’t in any danger alone in an empty library. He was currently in the sci-fi section, browsing old paperbacks.

     “I—how do you—can you see him?” Darcy whispers furiously. Skye gives her a panicked look.

     “Can people _not_ see him?”

     “That’s kind of why no one acknowledges him.”

     “But the god dude, Thor, he could see him,” Skye points out.

     “Yeah, don’t ask me why,” Darcy shakes her head, “apparently, most Asgardians can.”

     “ _What does that mean_?” Skye hisses, “ _What the fuck_?”

     “Don’t ask me, don’t ask me, don’t ask me, don’t ask—,”

     “Alright, homeslice, chill!” Skye says, hands up.

     Darcy leans back in her seat, sighing and eyeing Bucky over Skye’s shoulder.

     “I’m pretty sure he’s a ghost,” Darcy murmurs.

     Skye chokes on nothing.

      “I think I’ve officially seen everything,” she breaths after a pause. Darcy hums in agreement.

     They sit in silence for a minute, just the slight hum of the computer between them. She looks at Bucky, thinking about how he’s not talking to her and how much she wishes he could be seen by anyone else; have someone to talk to besides her.

     “Do you want to meet him?” Darcy asks, still looking at Bucky. Bucky looks up, catching her eye. She smiles at him and he _almost_ smiles back—but then he catches himself, scowls and turns away. Darcy winces.

     “We’re not…on the best of terms at the moment—but I think it’ll be good to talk to someone who isn’t me for once.” Darcy forces a smirk and looks back at Skye. The other woman is watching her with a sympathetic look on her face.

     “Alright, sure,” she says after a moment.

 

     Skye and Bucky talk in the Sci-Fi section while Darcy continues to test her skills on Skye’s computer. She’s insanely curious as to what they’re talking about but Bucky made it clear that she wasn’t really welcome to the conversation. While that really fucking hurts, she can’t help but be happy about how excited Bucky is to talk with someone new.

     She sighs as she watches Skye gesture animatedly and Bucky follow along with a small grin. Rubbing her hand down her face she leans back into the computer to try and figure out what she’d done wrong (again) while making a code-cracking program. It was incredibly hard to concentrate with Bucky over there without her and smiling like that and _she_ just wanted to make him smile and _why did she kiss The Intern, goddammit!_

     The loud clang of the library door swinging open draws everyone’s attention. A handsome man in black fatigues looks around the space before his eyes zero in on Skye.

     “Hey, Ward, what’s up,” Skye says. Bucky narrows his eyes at the new-comer before slowly making his way to stand by Darcy. Skye gives him an odd look but follows anyway.

     Ward eyes Darcy before looking back at Skye, seemingly bored.

     “Pack it up. We’re leaving.”

     “We’re done here?” Skye asks and Ward nods. “Alright, one minute. Let me give Darcy some programs real quick and then I’ll meet you outside.”

     “Make it quick,” he answers with a glare before turning to leave.

     “Wow, what a prick,” Darcy blurts once he’s gone. Her eyes go wide when she realizes that maybe she shouldn’t be bad-mouthing Skye’s teammate to her but Skye just snorts.

     “Yeah, at first. But he grows on you,” Skye says. She gives Darcy a conspiratorial wink, “He cares. He’s just _really_ bad at showing it.”

     Darcy grins back and looks at Bucky to find him studiously looking away from her. She frowns but turns back to Skye where she’s listing a few programs she’s sending Darcy via encrypted e-mail. Skye finishes that and stands to go, giving Darcy a warm smile.

     “Keep in touch, yeah?” Skye prods. Darcy nods.

     “I will. Get Coulson to tell the Avengers he’s alive, yeah?” He’d made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want her spilling his secret to anyone.

     “I can’t move mountains, Darcy,” Skye rolls her eyes. Darcy laughs and waves as Skye goes, leaving Bucky and her alone in the library.

     They stand in awkward silence for a moment before Darcy takes a breath to apologize. Bucky starts to walk away. Darcy gapes at him for a second before her mouth snaps shut on a snarl.

     She is _1000%_ D-O-N-E.

     “Okay, you know what?” Darcy says with a flare of anger, “We are not doing this childish shit anymore. I _need_ you to talk to me!”

     Bucky turns around crossing his arms over his chest and giving her an accusatory stare.

     “I get it! Alright?” She yells, “I get that what I did was shit of me to do, but I don’t know why it was so bad! I can’t fix it if you won’t tell me what I’m apologizing for!”

     “You kissed him!” He yells back.

     “Well, I’m glad your eyes are fucking working!” Darcy sasses. Bucky flinches and Darcy immediately feels bad. Bucky’s silently staring at his feet, now.

     “I’m sorry,” Darcy says, “I’m sorry, Bucky.” She moves into his space and feels relieved when he doesn’t step back. He doesn’t look at her either though. She reaches out a hand but then thinks better of it, dropping it to her side.

     “Why’d you do it?” Bucky asks.

     “I couldn’t kiss you,” she answers and Bucky’s head snaps up to look at her.

     “Which is— _I know_ —,” she continues, squeezing her eyes shut and putting her hands up in surrender, “a horrible, _dumb_ excuse, but besides the fact that I _literally can’t_ kiss you I also didn’t know what we were— _are_. What we _are._ Or if we _still_ are or-or if you wanted me to _try_ , at all—,”

     And maybe she’s a bit of coward. She didn’t want to ask what they were because she didn’t want to hear him say they weren’t anything at all. She didn’t want the one person she’s loved the longest—the one person who was _constant_ —to tell her she was just the only option.

     Darcy’s cut off by the feel of metal on her lips and her eyes snap open to find Bucky inches from her face. The fingers of his left hand are pressed gently to her mouth and the first two trace the top of it. He’s looking at her with all of the heat and affection of that first time she’d told him she’d loved him; before he’d disappeared and forgotten.

     He moves slowly, holding her gaze with his own, a question in his eyes. She holds her breath, tries not to move, just letting him come to her. He presses his lips to the back of his hand where it lays across her own mouth, gently, reverently.

     When he pulls back, he keeps his hand over her mouth. She’s got the biggest, dumbest smile on her face and feels like she might cry but she can’t say she’s ever been happier than right now, having not-kissed her probably-boyfriend. For fuck’s sake all she could feel was metal and she just does not give a damn.

     Bucky’s smile echoes her own and his fingers start tracing her top lip again.

     “Answer your question?” He asks. Darcy laughs, taking his hand with her own and kissing the back of it.

     “Yeah. It does.” She says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then everything falls to shit next chapter!!!  
> As always, comment and kudos, tell me what you think.


	7. Good Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied. Everything falls to shit *next* chapter.  
> TW for alcohol, drinking, and mentions of necrophilia, I guess.  
> Nobody fucks any dead bodies, so you can relax.

2014

     It’s been months since Alien Invasion 3.0 happened and Jane’s machines still go a little haywire from time to time. The Foster crew decided to remain in London so Jane could continue her research and Erik could teach at the local college. The small apartment houses their crew plus Thor so it’s crowded and Darcy could _really_ do without seeing Eric naked every now and then—but it was _nice_. It was surprisingly like family.

     With Thor’s return, Jane no longer spent so much time on her work—meaning Darcy was able to let go of The Intern soon after the Tolkien Takeover of 2k13™. That had been an interesting conversation of convincing Ian there was nothing between them while simultaneously firing him and keeping Bucky from strangling him. She’d had to keep hold of his left hand inside her sweatshirt pocket so he wouldn’t be tempted to use it on the poor, misguided kid.

     Things went back to kind-of-normal. The sort of normal Darcy was used to from New Mexico. Jane did work, Darcy helped, Thor walked around shirtless and distracted Jane from time to time, Erik found the beautiful eye-saving blessing that is kilts (sometimes), and Bucky continued to be Darcy’s adorable cinnamon roll. Too good. Too pure for this world.

     Hell, things even _improved_.

     Jane never uses even _half_ of the funding money allotted to them by Stark Industries—being so attached to her duct-taped machines and all—and so Darcy is able to actually start paying herself instead of living off small jobs in whatever city they were in (something Bucky had never been fond of her doing). She even promoted herself from intern to assistant. Congratulations, Darcy.

     Besides that, Darcy and Bucky seem to be doing pretty well. When she’s not working, Darcy usually lounges around with him, letting him pet her hair or holding his hand or what-have-you. Bucky hasn’t not-kissed her again, but he often traces her lips when they’re alone, now. Touching Darcy seems to be one of his favorite pass-times. It’s pretty far up there on Darcy’s list too.

     Jane has turned the entire living room of the flat into a lab space; littered with papers, a white board, empty coffee cups, and sticky notes of random equations. The couch had been pushed up against a far wall and the TV was moved into Thor and Erik’s bedroom—sleeping arrangements being that Jane and Darcy shared one room and the boys shared the other. Because, let’s face it, Darcy’s not bunking with Erik and she’s not going to suffer listening to Jane and Thor bump uglies all the time. Also, the machines wouldn’t fit anywhere but Darcy’s room, anyway and Jane’s scary attached to those monstrosities.

     Darcy’s responsibilities remain much the same: keeping the scientist fed and watered, organizing (by subject and then date, Jane) and transcribing notes, cleaning up the empty coffee cups, and generally being Jane’s voice of ‘hoe, don’t do it’. Keeping up with Jane can get highly frustrating at times but girls’ nights spent bonding on the (restricted access) roof of the apartment building keeps them both sane.

     “Hey, can I ask you something?” Jane says one night, handing the bottle of tequila back Darcy’s direction.

     “Shoot,” Darcy answers, taking a swig. It’s the cheap stuff, so it’s pretty much like swallowing gasoline, but it does the job it’s made to do; it warms her belly and gets her drunk pretty damn fast.

     “How does the relationship between you and Bucky even _work_?”

     Both Jane and Darcy are highly intoxicated by this point in the evening, meaning that very little is off the table as far as conversation topics go. Darcy figures Jane wouldn’t have asked otherwise; she’s usually good about steering clear of anything concerning her assistant and their resident ghost.

     “In what sense?” Darcy grabs one of the crackers and a slice of cheese from the pre-made platter between them, popping them in her mouth in one bite. Manners are for the weak (and the sober).

     “I dunno. I can’t even fucking see him, for one,” Jane slurs. Darcy nods somberly.

     “A true tragedy.”

     Jane tries to shove Darcy’s shoulder and nearly falls over.

     “Maybe we should slow down with the tequila,” Darcy says as she takes another big gulp.

     “Maybe you should slow down your face. Stop changing the subject.”

     Darcy sighs as Jane grabs the bottle back from her. She takes a cracker and lays it on the ground, smashing it up with her finger piece by piece.

     “What are you doing?”

     “It’s for my homies—the birds,” she answers, continuing her gruesome dismantling of the wheat product.

     “You don’t know any birds. Isn’t he dead, though?” Jane hops from subject to subject even faster drunk than she does sober.

     “I do too know a bird,” Darcy mumbles, “Bucky is dead, yes.”

     Jane scrunches up her face.

     “Isn’t that necrophilia?”

     “No, because that would mean there would have to be a body that I could fuck. Which there isn’t. So, I haven’t. Also, I wouldn’t.”

     “Ephemerilia?”

     “You made that up.”

     “Wait, why do you know a bird?”

     “You know him too, Jane.”

     “What? When did I meet a bird?”

     “Agent Barton, Jane. Codename Hawkeye.”

     “How does Bucky even touch you if he’s a ghost?” Jane asks switching back again.

     “Well, for the most part he doesn’t,” Darcy sighs, prying the bottle out of Jane’s hand as she tilts sideways reaching for the platter. Darcy rights her (or tries to) before taking a long pull of tequila.

     This conversation is dragging up a _lot_ of things Darcy didn’t want to think about. Like how much she loves her guy. Like how he’s stuck with her since she was seven but there’s nothing she can do to return that to him. Like how fucking inadequate she feels as a person, not even able to touch Bucky, to give back that crucial contact. How she can’t give him his history. Can’t tell him they’d loved each other once—that she _still_ loves him. How he’s a ghost and whatever they’ve got, it can’t end well. Not for him and not for her.

     “It fucking sucks,” she says after a moment, staring at the bottle in her hands. Jane scoots closer at her dejected tone, gracelessly leaning against her side and slinging an arm around her shoulder. They sit like that in silence, sharing body heat in the chilly March night until Jane’s brow furrows and she looks at Darcy confusedly.

     “Wait a minute, Agent Barton’s not a bird.”

 

     One hour later, the tequila and the cracker platter are both gone. Darcy and Jane are stumbling around the roof in a mockery of the foxtrot that Bucky had tried to teach her so long ago, arguing as they make fools of themselves where no one can see.

     “Agent Boxcart is too a bird! He sits in high places and runs away when people try to get close to him!” Darcy says loudly as she stumbles back, Jane in her arms (Darcy’s the lead because she’s taller—though not by much).

     Jane shakes her head, listing dangerously to the side in Darcy’s arms.

     “He’s not! And even if he was, you dork, you don’t _know_ him.”

     “I do too!”

     “He talked to you _once_! To introduce himself! That was it! _Whoa_ —!”

     They trip in the blanket and crash to the ground in a pile of limbs, giggling and pushing at each other as they try to sort themselves out.

     “We’re a mess,” Darcy says as she lays back on the ground, staring at the night sky. It’s cloudy and chilly but they don’t feel it, warmed by the alcohol and the dancing.

     “S’okay,” Jane mumbles into her arm. She’s lying on her stomach next to Darcy, eyes falling closed as she tries to speak, “we can be whole people again tomorrow.”

     They remain silent for a bit, drifting in and out before Darcy hears the door to the roof swing open.

     “Jane? Darcy?”

     It’s Thor and Darcy tries to sit up and nudge Jane but her limbs are heavy and she’s just so tired right now. Jane is passed out, lightly snoring.

     “We’re here!” She calls at least.

     Thor comes into view with a concerned look on his face followed by none other than her beautiful blue-eyed boy.

     “Bucky!” She says, grinning. He smiles back.

     “Hey, doll.” Her smile grows.

     Thor reaches down and picks Jane up gently, cradling her in his arms in a way that makes Darcy’s heart ache. She’s struck with a sudden mix of grief and envy, smile falling off her face. She _wants_ that. _So badly_.

     Her eyes start to water as Thor starts to carry Jane off, throwing an assurance over his shoulder to return for Darcy afterwards.

     “Take your time,” she croaks, trying (and largely failing) to keep the emotion out of her voice. Thor doesn’t seem to hear it but Bucky’s so close (he’s always so close) that it’s impossible for him not to.

     He crouches down next to her with a mild look of panic on his face. Darcy looks at him and sniffles. His eyes widen and the panic seems to mix with concern.

     “Darcy? You alright?” he asks her. Darcy bites her lip and shakes her head. Bucky’s concern grows.

     “Doll, c’mon, what’s wrong. Are you hurt?” He reaches for her with his left hand.

     “I’m sorry,” Darcy blurts and Bucky freezes.

     “I’m so sorry,” she starts to cry and the panic returns to Bucky’s features in full force, “I’m just—I’m sorry—,”

     “Sorry? What are you sorry for, Darce?” He asks gently, contrary to the look on his face. He reaches for her again but this time Darcy pulls away. She doesn’t look at him because she knows the look of hurt that’ll be painted on his face so well and she said she wouldn’t cause it again but she _did_. She _lied_. She’s _awful_.

     “You’re not awful, doll. Don’t do this to me, tell me what’s wrong,” he demands and Darcy’s crying turns to sobbing.

     “I-I’m s-so sorry, Bucky. I l-love you s-so much and I’m so sorry that you have to be s-stuck w-with me and I’m sorry I c-can’t touch you and y-you deserve someone who can give you m-more than me and I’m sorry I’m jealous of J-Jane and Thor and that I’m g-greedy and I want you s-so bad. I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry.”

     Tequila is absolutely _not_ her best friend. If tequila was her best friend, tequila would not have let her bombard her unstable ghost boyfriend with all that unnecessary emotional bullshit. Tequila would not have made her cry and move away and _hurt him_ again. Tequila is not her best friend.

     “You realize I can leave anytime I want, right?” He says and Darcy’s sobbing gets harder.

     “Okay, no—fuck—that wasn’t—that’s not what I meant!” He runs his hand through his hair, frustration clear on his face, “I’m not _stuck_ with you, doll. I want to be here. And if you’re greedy then I’m greedy too because I guarantee you I want you just as much.”

     He grabs her hand with his left, squeezing it tight enough to hurt but Darcy doesn’t fucking care. She just squeezes back.

     “I really thought I didn’t have to say any of this,” he whispers hoarsely, “I thought you knew but now my best girl’s crying so I guess not. Fuck, that’s on _me_ , Darcy, not you. I need you to listen carefully now, okay?”

     Darcy nods, sobs subsiding to tear-streaked sniffles in light of Bucky’s intense stare.

     “Fuck what anyone thinks I deserve, I’m choosing you. I’m choosing you because I love you, Darcy. I love you.”

     Darcy starts to cry again and pulls his hand closer, kissing the back of it and repeating that she loves him too probably way to many times. By the time Thor comes back, she’s cried herself out and passed out clutching Bucky’s arm to her chest. She would never know it but Bucky looks just as wrecked.

     Getting Darcy back to bed is quite the exercise. The entire time Thor’s carrying her she refuses to let go of Bucky’s hand, as stubborn in sleep as she is awake. Jane’s dead to the world when they get to the room the two women share and Bucky extricates his arm from Darcy long enough to turn down the covers of her bed. Once Thor lays her down, Bucky focuses his energy on removing her shoes and pants. He hears Thor leave the room as he works and when he’s done he looks up to see Thor holding a glass of water and pain pills, sitting them on Darcy’s bedside table.

     Thor claps him gently on the shoulder, giving him a sympathetic look before he leaves. Exhausted, Bucky sinks down to the floor by Darcy’s bed, leaning his head back and giving her his hand again.

     In the morning, Darcy wakes with the hangover from hell, groaning as she tries to open her eyes. Despite the pain in her head, she smiles when she sees Bucky watching her and squeezes his hand with more than a little embarrassment when she realizes she’s still got a hold of it. He smirks at her.

     “I love you,” she whispers.

     “I love you, too,” he whispers back.

     “Fuuuuuuck,” Jane groans from across the room, “Science is cancelled for the day. Everyone can stay in bed.”

     Darcy huffs out a laugh but winces when it aggravates her headache.

     “Tequila is not my best friend,” she says. Jane agrees whole heartedly and Bucky tries not to laugh too loudly at their pain.

     She squeezes his hand once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has not been beta read. Please let me know if you see any errors. Follow my fic tumblr (captainwittyonewriter.tumblr.com) for dumb updates or to bother me about my fics.  
> As always, comments and kudos, I want to know what you think.


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